


arrows & amells

by girlwondersteph



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Family Bonding, Female Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwondersteph/pseuds/girlwondersteph
Summary: Charade decides she ought to teach her cousin how to use a bow; the ideal setting for such a lesson is, of course, the inside of theirothercousin's mansion.
Relationships: Charade Amell & Female Hawke, Female Amell & Female Hawke (Dragon Age)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	arrows & amells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joufancyhuh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/gifts).



“Your grip is too tight, you know,” Charade said.

Solona groaned, relaxing her fingers slightly. “You just told me to hold on tighter!” 

Charade snorted. She was sprawled across the back of Hawke’s fancy couch, watching Solona’s progress with a critical eye - as critical as one could be when they were practically upside down, anyway. “Yes, because a stiff breeze could’ve knocked the bow out of your hands. Now I’m afraid you’re going to splinter the poor thing.” 

Solona squinted at the target they’d set up on the wall, a circular plank of wood hastily painted with the supply of kaddis they’d found lying around the mansion. She was pretty sure it was the stuff Hawke used on her _face_ sometimes. Oh, well. 

“You’re overthinking it,” Charade offered, sitting up straight. “Don’t hold the shot too long. You’ll sacrifice your accuracy. And don’t drop your arm so soon after release; your arrows will end up too low. Hold your position until you hear it make contact.” 

Solona shot - and missed the target by inches. The arrow bounced off the wall, without even enough force to stick. 

“You were closer that time,” Charade said cheerfully. 

“No need to be charitable: I’m hopeless,” Solona said, lowering the bow. “I think I’ll just stick to magic.” 

“You wouldn’t be so pessimistic if you’d seen _my_ first time,” Charade said. “I almost took my own eye out, somehow. I still don’t know how I managed that one. How’s the wall looking?”  
  
Solona shrugged. “A few dents and scratches. Those I can fix,” she said, and wiggled her fingers; shimmering blue sparks leapt between them. “Not that I think Hawke would notice the damage even if we left it. This wall was in a state long before we got here. It must be her dog’s favorite. And that pirate friend of hers with the truly staggering amount of daggers.” 

That was, of course, precisely the reason they’d chosen that particular wall for their impromptu family archery lessons. Charade had suggested the endeavor after hearing Solona’s stories about nasty run-ins with Templars. 

Weapons training - and from her cousin, who was remarkably gifted in addition to generally being very entertaining company - had _seemed_ like a decent idea, though Solona had swiftly come to the realization that learning to shoot properly would take longer than she had anticipated. Her failure to grasp the art easily pricked at her pride; she had to admit, she was used to being a bit of a prodigy. Magic had always come to her easily. She had excelled in the Circle with only a fraction of the work most of her peers had been required to put in. 

The front door of the mansion opened, intensifying the sound of the storm outside, and both Solona and Charade turned to see the Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of the mighty Arishok, daring Deep Roads explorer - and their mutual cousin, of course. The legacy of the Amells hadn’t fared well under Gamlen’s dubious (and frequently drunk) stewardship, but their family always seemed to find its way back to greatness. Or notoriety. Solona supposed it depended on your perspective, really. 

“I’m home,” Hawke announced with the gravity of someone who had been gone for years, though it had only been the better part of a day. She’d been off helping Varric take care of some Viscount business that couldn’t wait. Her Mabari, Cat, trailed at her heels, shaking out his wet fur. 

“Hey, Hawke,” Solona said. The name still felt a little strange to say - Solona had used her first name since they’d met for the first time all those years ago, but these days, her cousin almost exclusively went by Hawke; she’d joked that it wasn’t as if she had any competition. She was the last of the Hawkes, as far as she knew. 

But proudly as she might bear her father’s name, her mother’s side mattered as well. And she was _not_ the last Amell. None of them were. That was the reason they had these meetings, every once in a while, despite the chaos of their individual lives. 

Charade waved, eyeing Cat a little warily; she wasn’t quite used to Mabari yet, still thinking it strange how Fereldans doted on warhounds that seemed likely to, according to her, "eat one's face off." 

Hawke’s gaze slid past them to the target on the wall, and then refocused on the bow still in Solona’s hands. “What in the name of the Maker are you two doing?” she asked, baffled.

“Target practice,” Charade said. “For the benefit of mages who might someday have their spells nullified by angry Templars.” 

“Oh, right,” Hawke said. “That seems a bit obvious now. The bow, and everything. I should rephrase: why are you doing this in my _house_?” 

“Weather’s pretty bad,” Solona said airily. “It’s warm and dry in here. And we could stop for snacks if we wanted.” 

Hawke shed her wet overcoat, and ran her hand through her damp hair. “Where’s Orana?” she asked. “Hiding for her life, presumably?”  
  
“Oh, she went home hours ago,” Charade said brightly. 

“Tell me she wasn’t chased away by my maniacal bow-wielding cousins,” Hawke said. “I don’t have many house rules - I want to make my beloved family feel welcome - but refraining from terrorizing my staff is an implied rule.”  
  
“Please,” scoffed Charade. “She was _impressed_ by my shooting. If anything terrorized her, it was Solona’s elbow rotation.” 

Solona laughed, and put the bow aside, giving it up as a lost cause. “Your shooting may be impressive, but your teaching is dismal,” she said. “You could try a little more encouragement. They say it motivates better performance.” 

“I’m just telling the truth,” Charade said, grinning. She picked up the bow, drew an arrow from the quiver resting on the couch beside Solona, and nocked it. 

“Show-off,” Solona said lightly, and wandered over to give Cat (Maker, her cousin’s names were truly ridiculous) a scratch between his ears. He panted happily and cuddled up to her, which almost made up for the smell of wet dog. There’d been a spell Wynne had used for dispersing smells when they’d travelled together, but Solona didn’t remember the specifics. Shame. 

Charade’s arrow released, straight and true - and then drifted slightly to the side, embedding itself in the side of the makeshift target. 

Hawke, the corner of her mouth twitching, lowered her hand. 

“Cheating!” Charade declared, though she sounded rather impressed, as she often was by displays of magic from her cousins. 

In fairness, that _had_ been an impressive feat, even to a fellow mage - you had to be _fast_ , to intercept an arrow. Hawke had a remarkable grasp on force magic, something that hadn’t really been touched upon in Kinloch - it was a Kirkwall specialty, as Solona understood it. It required incredible focus and precision, and yet Hawke did it with a casual gesture, entirely unruffled.

“Now _you’re_ showing off, too, Hawke,” Solona said. 

Hawke shrugged. “Must be a family trait,” she said. “We can’t be blamed for it, really.” 

She crossed the room and stashed away the bag, though not before pulling from its depths a rather fancy-looking bottle of wine.

“You are planning on sharing that, aren’t you?” Charade asked.

“Actually, I thought I’d drink the entire bottle myself,” Hawke said, and sauntered over to the couch, nudging Charade’s legs. “I just need you two to keep an eye on what I get up to afterward. Move up, please.”

“Well, in that case… no,” Charade said, but shifted so her cousin could sit down anyway.

“Look,” Hawke said. “My magic isn’t only good for ruining your shots.” She lifted her hand and popped the cork off the wine with a shower of sparks. 

Charade clapped. 

“No mockery within the walls of my own home,” Hawke said. “Ah, hang on, I forgot to fetch glasses. Solona, could you…?” 

“You can’t send the _Hero of Ferelden_ to fetch things for you,” Charade said. “She ended the Blight! Saved your home country!” 

Solona left them to their friendly back-and-forth; she could intervene, but they both enjoyed it far too much. Upon her return with glasses, the pair were laughing, Hawke’s arm slung over Charade’s shoulder. Cat had disappeared - probably to Hawke’s bed, if Solona knew the dog. 

“If I hadn’t lived with Gamlen for a year, I would never believe even a _quarter_ of your stories,” Hawke said. 

“But you did, and you do,” Charade said. “He’s my father, and I think he’s really trying, but…”  
  
They paused, looked at each other, and laughed again.

Solona was struck, looking at them. Their features were nothing alike - according to them, Hawke favored her father and Charade her mother in looks - but there was something in the way they laughed that made it clear they were family. She wondered if there were any such similarities between herself and her cousins, the kind it took an outside eye to notice. She hoped so. The thought was comforting, somehow.

“I am very fond of this mansion, Hawke,” Solona said, handing them each a glass and then sitting down between them. “Do I get any sort of claim on it? It was the _Amell_ estate, after all.” 

“You have all of Ferelden at your feet, and you want my mansion?” Hawke shook her head, and poured for each of her cousins, before chucking the almost-empty wine bottle behind her - and gently lowering it to the ground with her magic. 

“I’ll have your armor, if you’re handing things out,” Charade put in. “I like the fur on it.”  
  
“ _I_ don’t, really,” Hawke said. “But I had to fight a very angry Qunari for it, so I’m not giving it up so easily.” 

Solona took a sip; she didn’t immediately dislike it, but telling good wine from bad wine was another thing she was hopeless about. The wine bottle had looked flashy, and Hawke could afford quality stuff, but she knew that meant little. 

“You know, I was thinking,” she said. “About us. Our family, I mean.”

“And what a family it is,” Charade said dryly, though Solona hadn’t missed the brief shift of expression at the words _our family_. Charade, like her, had never known a family. Having one now - no matter how small - meant more than either of them could express.

“I just - I don’t know,” Solona said. “Look at us. We’re still _here_. Despite… everything. A pair of mages and the daughter of a chambermaid, drinking fancy wine in Hightown.”  
  
“Something that bothers Kirkwall’s nobility to no end, I expect,” Hawke said, and sounded very pleased about it. “But you’re right. Here, let’s toast. It’s predictable, but I do love a good toast. To the continued existence of the Amells. And our night, of course.” 

They clinked their glasses together, and drank. 

“Right,” Solona said. “Now that’s over and done with, one of you is going to have to tell me if this is actually quality wine or not.”


End file.
